Slit my throat
But I rather be dead than for you to disrespect me
She said....
I rather be dead than for you to disrespect me like that
My soul was still clutch to the tissues of my heart like a chaotic racing horse
How dare you?
She ask....
I feel you pounding in me
You had no pity to wonder If I was a virgin
All you wondered about was your lust not my humanity
All I see was blood going everywhere
Bruised body
Broken bones
And aching heart
How dare you?
She ask...
I was ripped of my purity
That was the only thing that I had
It was my gold
My guarded treasure
As I captain my ship out of the turbulent sea of poverty
Now I have nothing
How dare you?
She ask.............
YOU ARE READING
Poverty
PoetryThis is a poetry book. the purpose of this book is not to make you feel sympathy for those experiencing hardship around the world only but simply open your eyes about poverty and how it is affecting people all around you. This book will be mostly o...
